The Billionaire's Lethal Substitute Wife

Harley slowly turned her head. She stood her ground, her bare feet planted firmly on the cold floor, refusing to show a single ounce of intimidation. She looked down at Jaidyn.

"Five million dollars buys what, exactly?" Harley asked, her voice dangerously calm.

Jaidyn didn't answer. He simply tilted his head toward his brother.

Kian opened his black leather briefcase. He pulled out a thick, beautifully bound legal document and held it out to Harley.

Harley took it. The heavy paper felt like a weight in her hands. She looked at the cover page.

Special Companionship & Non-Disclosure Agreement.

She flipped to the first page. Her eyes scanned the dense legal jargon.

Clause 1: The Contractor (Harley Vance) shall relocate to the primary residence of the Client (Jaidyn Miles) for a period of six (6) months to serve as a full-time emotional anchor for the minor, Leo Miles.

Harley frowned. A live-in nanny? For five million?

She flipped the page. Her eyes widened as she read the next section.

Clause 4: Personal Presentation. The Contractor must adhere to a specific aesthetic profile. Wardrobe will be provided, consisting primarily of white dresses. Hair must be maintained long, straight, and dyed to color code 000000 (Jet Black). The Contractor will exclusively wear the provided bespoke perfume (Notes: Lily of the Valley and White Musk).

Harley's stomach churned. A wave of intense nausea hit her.

She wasn't being hired as a nanny. She was being hired as a prop. A living, breathing doll customized to look like someone else.

She looked up at Jaidyn. "What is this sick joke?" she demanded, shaking the papers at him. "You're dictating my hair color? My perfume?"

Jaidyn sat perfectly still. His ice-blue eyes didn't blink. "You possess the single most valuable asset in this transaction, Miss Vance. Your face."

Kian cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away. "Jaidyn, maybe we should phrase it differently-"

"Quiet," Jaidyn snapped, never taking his eyes off Harley.

Harley felt the air leave her lungs. The memory of Colvin throwing the prenup at her face flashed in her mind. Five years ago, she was a tool for a family trust. Today, she was a replacement for a dead woman.

The absolute disgust she felt for these billionaires and their God complexes boiled over.

Harley slammed the file shut. She threw it with all her strength. The heavy document smacked against Jaidyn's chest and clattered to the floor.

"Find another ghost to play dress-up with," Harley spat. "I'm not your dead wife."

Jaidyn's face darkened. The temperature in the room plummeted. He stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the bed.

"Do not let your pride make you stupid," Jaidyn warned, his voice dropping to a lethal register. "Without this money, your little startup studio will be bankrupt before the end of the month. I've seen your cash flow."

Harley's heart skipped a beat. He knew about the studio's financial trouble. But he called it a "little startup studio"-he didn't know she was L.A.N. He only saw the shell company's debt.

She lifted her chin, refusing to show fear. She walked past him, went to the closet, and pulled out her blood-stained hoodie and sweatpants. She walked into the private bathroom and shut the door.

Outside, Leo panicked. He ran to the bathroom door and wrapped his small arms around the doorframe. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out, terrified she was leaving.

Inside the bathroom, Harley leaned over the sink. She looked at her pale face in the mirror. She took a deep, shuddering breath, shoving the pity for the boy deep down. She couldn't let herself be chained again.

She changed quickly, wincing as the fabric rubbed against her stitches.

She opened the door. Leo was right there, looking up at her with red, pleading eyes. He grabbed the hem of her hoodie, his small knuckles turning white.

Harley knelt down. She gently pried his fingers open, one by one. "I have to go, Leo," she whispered softly.

Leo shook his head violently. Silent tears poured down his cheeks.

Jaidyn stepped in front of the main door, blocking her exit. He looked down at her. "You are staying."

Harley stood up. She walked right up to him, stopping inches from his chest. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye.

"You can buy Wall Street, Mr. Miles," Harley said, her voice like grinding glass. "But you can't buy me."

Jaidyn looked down at her defiant face. "If you walk out that door, I will make one phone call. You will never work on a film set in this country again."

Harley laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound. "Do you think I scare easily? Try it."

She stepped forward and slammed her shoulder hard into Jaidyn's chest, forcing him to step aside.

Jaidyn stumbled back half a step. He didn't look angry. Instead, a dark, thrilling light ignited in his eyes. He watched her hand wrap around the brass door handle.

"Are you really going to leave without even writing him a note?" Jaidyn's deep voice echoed behind her.

Harley stopped.